


I'm Not That

by AngryGinger (Error401)



Series: Bruises and Badassery [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Kash runs away, M/M, Mickey is an adorable offensive idiot, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error401/pseuds/AngryGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian never thought of Frank's escapades as “abuse” until, funnily enough, Mickey pointed to the bruises shadowing his face and laughed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not That

Ian never thought of it as “abuse” until, funnily enough, Mickey pointed to the bruises shadowing his face and laughed.

“The fuck, Gallagher? Your fag boyfriend do that to you?” Mickey snickered, ripping open a bag of freshly stolen chips and grabbing a handful, stuffing them into his mouth. Crumbs flew everywhere, orange cheese powder staining Mickey’s pale white fingers.

Ian frowned and took another swig of the beer he’d stashed under the counter, resting the bottle against the side of his face in the hope that the cold would make his cheek stop throbbing. “Don’t you have puppies to kick, or something?” he sighed. Normally he’d be up for trading insults with the delinquent, but he was just too mentally exhausted. 

“Nah,” Mickey shrugged, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans and leaving orange smears among the dirt already present. “What, am I interrupting your fuck buddy time with the Arab?”

“Shut up, Mickey,” Ian groaned, rubbing fingertips into his forehead. 

Frank and a few of his buddies had practically broken down the door in their drunken attempts to get inside the night before. Ian had been alone except for Debs and Liam, and he told Debbie to keep their brother upstairs and out of the way so he could deal with Frank on his own. Unfortunately, Frank was one of those mean, invincible drunks, and for whatever reason had always hated Ian a little more than the rest of his children.

“You gonna die over a few bruises, Gallagher?” Mickey mocked, clearly not impressed by the way Ian was dealing with his aching head. “My sister can take a punch better than you!”

Ian didn’t doubt it. Mandy could probably take a lot of things better than him. Except it wasn’t just a punch, but several. And a fucking head butt. And a few kicks to the ribs and sternum when he’d latched onto Frank’s leg in an attempt to stop him from going inside the house. He wouldn’t let his bastard of a father put his siblings in danger because he brought back a few freaks that had had six too many. Luckily Fiona had shown up, and Frank loved her a lot more than Ian and would never hit her like he would him.

“Yo, Gallagher!” Mickey snapped, tossing the empty bag onto the floor. “I’m fucking talking to you!”

The door creaked open to Kash’s hunched form, bandages and antiseptic gathered precariously in the cradle of his arms. “I wasn’t sure what you’d need, so…” he trailed off, glancing nervously at Mickey and then down to the empty bag. He made a visible effort to pull himself back together and looked at Ian’s slumping upper body, choosing to pretend that Mickey wasn’t there and hadn’t just stolen food for the thousandth time. “Are you sure you won’t let me just take you to the hospital?”

“Yeah, cause I can afford it with my amazing insurance,” Ian said sarcastically, wincing as he shifted in his seat and tried to get a better look at what Kash was carrying. “Any painkillers in there somewhere? Preferably the prescription grade kind?”

“How can a parent do this to their child?” Kash frowned, tracing fingers around the outlines of the bruises on Ian’s face. It was one of the moments where Ian was forced to remember than Kash was a married man and had two kids of his own, pushing down that tug of guilt in his stomach that always reared up when he did. Ian fought not to lean into the touch, feeling a little starved for affection, but unwilling to show that side of himself in front of an audience, even if he was sleeping with said audience on the side. 

“What, daddy give you a bad touch, Gallagher?” Mickey said, obnoxious and loud as always. He sidled up to just out of arm’s reach of Ian and Kash, causing the older man no small amount of anxiety. Kash twitched away from Ian, knocking a few boxes of Band-Aids off of the counter, and maneuvered around the dark-haired delinquent. 

“I’ll…be in the back,” Kash announced. “Let me know if you need anything, Ian.” It was code for: let me know when the scary Milkovich is gone. Ian had thought Kash was getting braver after Linda offered him the fucked up deal for another kid, but it seemed like Mickey Milkovich was still too much for the timid man to handle. Ian guessed he couldn’t blame him, but it was also one of the reasons why he’d had sex with Mickey in the first place. Mickey was strong where Kash was weak, and it was exciting. Fuck, it was exciting.

“Fag,” Mickey called after him, and Ian could see Kash’s shoulders tense even under his sweater. Mickey snorted and turned his attention back to Ian, who had begun rifling through the cheap array of medical supplies. “You need some meds, firecrotch? I know this guy—“

“Nah, Mickey,” Ian sighed. “I gave all my money to Fiona for the backed up utility bills. I can’t pay.”

“I’m a fucking Milkovich, Gallagher! We get shit for free!” Mickey grunted.

Ian smiled, shaking his head, and ripped the top off a box of bandages, wincing as the movement caused him more pain than he’d anticipated. “Shit. Fuck. Shit,” he growled, bracing his hands against the counter as his ribs twinged. 

Mickey jerked forward but froze, leaning down to fiddle with his frayed shoe laces in an attempt to cover up the movement. “You really that bad off?”

“Dunno,” Ian breathed, rubbing lightly at his abdomen. “Frank musta’ been on fucking PCP or something. Shit,” he cursed again, passing over a tender spot.

“If someone did that to Mandy, you know I’d fuckin’ kill ‘em, right?” Mickey said, his fingers unconsciously curling into fists.

“I know,” Ian said, confused. Of course he knew. Mickey had damn near beaten both he and Lip to death because of Mandy’s lie.

“Well…fuckin’ good,” Mickey nodded. 

Ian took a breath. Paused.

“Did you just threaten Frank for me?”

“Not for you, fag,” Mickey scowled. “Abusive dickheads like that deserve to be put down. Who fuckin’ said anything about you?”

“Right,” Ian hurriedly agreed. “Sorry.” He undid the first button on his shirt.

“The fuck are you doing, firecrotch?” Mickey demanded, eyes darting towards the door.

“I need to wrap my ribs, Mickey,” Ian said, exasperated. “You think I was gonna’ fuckin’ jump you in the middle of the store?”

The best thing for Ian about Mickey being so pale was that it was impossible to hide the blushes.


End file.
